


Three Songs, No Flash

by Skipp



Category: Blink-182
Genre: Being a music photographer is hard, M/M, but there are tentacles, no innuendo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 14:51:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13079232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skipp/pseuds/Skipp
Summary: To be honest, Mark does not actually hear the music when he’s working.





	Three Songs, No Flash

**Author's Note:**

> Sounds like cool job, huh? Well, it has it's perks. Believe me. Been there, done that. Yes you get to meet cool people but also fight security and assholes (especially when the mosh and photo pit intersect). Every red light on the stage is your enemy and then they turn on the fog machine... you feel like strangling a bitch.
> 
>  
> 
> *****
> 
> The common drill.. all mistakes are mine, all characters appearing in these works are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The situations, the dialogs and other relations are all fictional. The characters have their own personalities and choices that are not those of the real people. 
> 
> Do not post any of my works published here or elsewhere without my explicit permission.

“Three songs, no flash,” repeats the production assistant for the fourth time this evening and escorts their little crowd of photographers towards the stage.

 _Yada yada, the usual mantra, we all know_ , Mark thinks chewing on peppermint gum, hoping this would be an easy one, so he could go smoke a cigarette somewhere in quiet and check out the shots from the previous band. He adjusts his second camera sling, stuffs his earplugs in and nods at the security guy opening the little barrier dividing them from the photo pit.

Let’s get this past us.

*******

Jesus fuck, some people don’t understand the basic rules of behaving in the pit Mark sighs as he focuses on the bassist to his right hand. Don’t hog your place, rotate, be aware of others working next to you, don’t shoot from above your head when you are standing in the front, be kind, simple as that.

He’s nervous because he feels that the pics he has already made are not good enough. He feels like he could pull more out of them, despite the usual crap conditions. The whole venue is dark as hell, only lit by thin clusters of lasers and dim red light beams. The worse combination. But luckily there is no smoke, so at least the images will be underexposed but sharp enough. Still it would be a bitch to edit them later.

Seems like this is one of those bands that always make it hard for the photographers. The stage is set all dark and gloomy for the first three songs, but after that they light up the whole place like a fucking Christmas tree and voilá,  _I could tear my hair out_.

As on command the light settings change to a bright combination on blue and yellow.  _Oh that’s better,_  Mark thinks as he turns towards the bassist in anticipation.  _Show me what you got babe_.

******

In the end it wasn’t so bad.

He even has a pretty nice shot of the drummer, all flying hands with sticks, pure energy. Yet one thing is missing. An eye contact shot with the singer would be nice. But the singer seems to be either focusing the exact opposite direction Mark needs or Mark catches only unflattering shots with half open mouth and lips screwed on the mic.

 _You are not making it any lighter, are you? How am I supposed to catch a decent face shot if you’re not co-operating_ , Mark asks himself focusing through his viewfinder.  _One more song left and all I need is one nice eye contact, come on, be nice and make this photo set a good one._

One last time Mark focuses on the singer’s face and there it is, one green beam illuminates his face. Mark pushes the shutter.  _Fuck yeah, it’s a wrap!_ He can now smoke his cigarette and browse the pictures with satisfaction. His photoset is saved.

The security guy waves his hand in a dismissal gesture. Time’s up.

„Three bands left, eh?“ says Jay from Alternative Nation as they leave the pit. „I liked this one, has a good drinking vibe to it. Wanna stay and listen to them for a bit?“ Jay asks.

 „I didn’t really paid attention to this one,“ Mark admits. Apart from the singer who was not playing along Mark’s lens the band apparently did not left any significant impression.

To be honest, Mark does not actually hear the music when he’s working. You need to be 100% focused if you want to give a 100% report. There are no second chances in this job. Plus, after all the years, Mark learned to tune out the music because listening patiently to every band he’s ever shot would blow his head off. Today it’s only twenty bands in one day. Imagine this on a five days festival with three stages.

„Then let’s grab a beer and check out the shots.“ Jay suggests.

„Oh yeah,“ Mark smiles and fumbles his pockets for cigarettes. They have 40 minutes left before the next band takes the stage.

The press room is occupied by various people, hogging over their computers or in deep conversation on their phones. The only two empty seats are in different corners. Jay gives Mark a shrug and Mark nods. What can you do.

Mark walks up to the empty chair in the back of the room, takes out his laptop and pulls out the memory cards from both cams. Let’s take a look how the pics came out. The folder loads with images and Mark quickly sorts the shots. Bad, bad, decent, bad, bad, on that’s a nice one, bad. Okay, seem like he will have his usual of 15 good ones + 3 perfect set with less work.

He gets to the last part with the singer’s portrait and raises his eyebrows in surprise. Wow, that came out even better than he thought. The singers face is well framed by the blurred background. The camera focuses on his lips, ready to form words, inches from the microphone. It would be an almost intimate shot, except the singer‘s eyes are boring right into the camera. Mark’s cheeks flush red and he congratulates himself on picking up a place where no one can see his reaction. He asked for eye contact, but this expression borders on flirting.

Well, gotta give credit to the guy, he’s handsome, no doubt. Probably couple of years younger than him. His face has a nice bone structure, chiseled jaw smoothly shaved, a silver ring decorates one of the nostrils above elegantly cut upper lip. His lively blue eyes staring into the cam. And Mark is a sucker for blue eyes.

 _Damn attractive,_  Mark blinks and immediately slams his laptop shut.

„Hey Jay, I’m off to shoot the next band, time’s almost up, wanna go?“ he yells.

**********

„I need to catch some fresh air, I’ll be right back“ Mark yells and pulls at the door handle. The air in the parking lot of the venue is surprisingly cold, it helps his half-drunken brain to get back on track.

 _I should really stop drinking gin_  Mark thinks as he walks down the lot. The thrumming of the music almost can’t be heard anymore.  _What a great night_  he thinks as he pulls out his lighter.

He met a couple of old friends and stayed in the backstage with them for some drinks and a chat.

Fests are always fun, he contemplates as he lights up his cigarette, takes a drag and exhales the fumes.

This part of the parking space is deserted, most of the tour buses are crammed as near to the backstage entrance as possible. Only two of them are standing here, drowned in the dark. Mark looks around and finds a suitable place to sit on some steps under an awning.

He’s dragging from his almost burned cigarette as he hears a distant giggle. Two dark silhouettes detach themselves from the side of one of the tour buses.

Looks like someone will have a fun evening. Mark observed them with interest. He didn’t realised someone other was here too. But the pair apparently did not noticed him coming either, because they stopped mid walking and are passionately kissing each other. Mark discovers with surprise that both silhouettes have an unmistakable masculine build.  _Oh you lucky bastards, I haven’t gotten laid in months_. Mark envies from the safety of the dark he’s hiding in. The two men whisper something to each other and continue their walking towards Mark’s spot.

Why are they heading his way? Mark nervously ticks his gaze around the place. Not far away from him is a dark door with a white paper stuck to it. Apparently an artist cloak room he previously oversaw. Damn, gotta make himself as invisible as possible. They might not like the fact that someone saw them.

Mark hides the cigarette in his hand and pushes himself as close to the wall as possible. The two men walk past his hiding place and open the door to the cloak room. The light form inside light them up for a split second and Mark recognises the face of the taller guy. It‘s the singer from the photo. What was the name again… Alkaline something?

****

On the drive back home, Mark can not stop thinking about what he saw.

Later, while editing the pictures for the report he suppresses the urge to switch to Google. After fifteen minutes he resigns, takes his laptop, types down Alkaline Trio and waits. There are a lot of interviews, whole Wikipedia article, band website. How the hell could Mark miss the band, they started touring at the same time as he started shooting for a small music mag. Given the huge US scene it is possible to miss a band or two. The network of his friends is still not wide enough to catch everything. He browses some more and then skips to the image search. Yep, Matthew Thomas Skiba, born on the twenty fourth of February 1976. A fairly attractive man, Mark gazes at the screen.  _I gotta know_ , he thinks as he types again.

Looks like Skiba does not do labels or anything like that but there is a generous amount of evidence that he dated both girls and guys, no big deal. Mark has to admit that despite the overall positive change in the attitude, there is still a fuckaton of homo-, bi- and other phobia in the music industry. And society in general. Unfortunately it’s still rare to have an openly gay musician. People tend to assume and making up stupid shit.

It’s a little easier with photographers because they are not in the spotlight. He goes to Youtube and watches some of the videos of the band.

The next morning Mark wakes up with his face smushed against his laptop. Looks like he left asleep while watching interviews with Matthew Skiba. Awkward.

He takes a shower, eats his breakfast and desperately tries not to think about the playful laughter he heard in the parking lot, or the way how Skiba‘s hands gesticulated when he spoke, or the way he was leaning into his now ex-boyfriend in one of the rare photos he found on some gossip page. Okay, okay, Mark’s not proud of browsing some star mags online. But you have to be up to date with things or you’re gonna get your ass beaten.

The phone on his table chirps with a call. It’s Rich from the AP office.

“Hi Mark, how are you? Listen, I’m doing an interview on Friday and I need to have some photos as well. You’re still in LA right? Are you free this Friday, around 3pm?”

“Oh yea, I am, I’m flying to Denmark on Tuesday next week so there is plenty of time.” Mark scribbles a note on paper.

“Cool, let’s meet at quarter to three at the Chapeau Rouge in Silver Lake. I think one wide lens and a 50 will be fine.” Rich is a photographer-turned-writer so his eye is pretty fit on this.

“Yeah sure, will do. Who are you interviewing?”

“Atom Willard has a side project called theHELL and we will talk about that.”

„Cool, cool, I haven’t seen the man in years“ Mark smiles.

****

„Atom will be accompanied by his partner in crime, Matt Skiba,“ Rich casually mentions while opening the door to Chapeau.

„By who?!“

But it’s too late to bail out.

The two musicians are sitting in the corner booth, deep in some debate. Rich approaches them and Mark somehow stumbles behind him, his mind running various apocalyptic scenarios. Then Mark settles with the possibility that Skiba hardly registered him during the short time period and there is nothing to worry about.

„Heey, Atom! How are you?“

Friendly greetings and hugs are exchanged and Mark is officially introduced to Matt Skiba. The same inquisitive glance as on the photo is accompanied by a strong handshake.

If Mark’s nervous only a little while handling the camera it can be attributed to the difficult light setting. The guys start to talk with Rick, often burst into laugh and tell off-the-record stories. Mark snaps a pic here and there, listens and observes.

Skiba,  _Matt,_ seems to be very laid back person, the sort of you always go to chat with because their voice has a calming tone and they contribute something interesting. His laugh can be categorized as low, warm and a bit rumbling. Judging by the puzzle of the tattoos on his arms, both good and shitty ones, Matt has a fair share of history behind him. Not only the one you find written in articles. His knuckles spell  _l-o-v-e s-o-n-g_  . Mark wonders how far the ink spreads along Matt’s tall figure.

Snap. Both musicians are aware and time to time acknowledge the presence of the camera by making a face, Mark even catches Matt staring at him a couple of times.

The interview comes slowly to an end and now they’re just talking about news and the recent stuff related to some music label. Mark packs his gear away and joins in. The topics change and they are talking about the event Matt played and Mark worked at.

„I was there too, shooting for AP. I have some pics from your set, they came out pretty well I say. The report was a success with the readers.“ Mark says to Matt. He is proud of the work he does.

„Oh, I remember you from the pit, you looked so irritated during the second song. Can I have some pics? Like I mean, not the ones you published, but if you have something in that did not made the cut. I’d happily buy it off. I’m assembling a new press kit for Trio out and I’d like to use them,“ Matt leans forward with his elbows over the table. His eyes have a certain glint of playfulness.

„Are you sure you have enough to pay?“ Atom snickers. „Because Mark is expensive.“

„I am sure we will figure something out,“ Matt smirks, piercing Mark with his gaze like a bug on a nail.

„I have like a fifty decent ones home. I can select and send you something tomorrow.“

„Would it be a problem if I picked them by myself? I have some spare time after this and if you don’t have either, we could go through them together.“ A hint of invitation flashes across his face.

Mark shivers as he takes on the thing impIied by the question. _I would not be able to pull that off so effortlessly,_  Mark has to admire Matt‘s smoothness. „No, I don’t have anything planned for afternoon.“

„Perfect,“ Matt states.

They finish their drinks and Atom excuses himself that he has to go. He’s already twenty minutes late for his next appointment. Rich goes a couple of minutes after him, leaving Mark and Matt alone in front of Mark’s car.

„Hop in,“ Mark nods towards the passenger door and goes to sit behind the wheel to face the mayhem that is afternoon LA traffic.

The ride is long and they talk different things, from music over photography to dogs and jogging. Mark notices Matt likes to overuse the word  _like_  a lot.

When they arrive at Mark’s place Matt whistles. „I thought you would live in a nice neighbourhood, but this?“

„It’s family heritage,“ Mark explains and drives up the well-tended entrance to the house.

After Matt gets the brief guided tour,  _bathroom here, studio here, kitchen here, would you like something to drink?_ Mark takes him to the studio to select the pictures.

After the flirting in the Chapeau, Matt seems to be a rather distanced, examining the big print pics one the walls of studio, not making a move.

 _Maybe I should do it, or, I misunderstood the whole situation,_  Mark argues with himself, clicking though the files on his drive.

„This one’s beautiful, you took that too?“ Matt stands in front of the Octopus bimaculoides photo.

„Yes. I discovered that I have a thing for underwater photography when I tried diving three years ago. That’s the California Two-Spot Octopus. They are awesome and better at posing than most musicians.“

„We face the wrong way, hide in the light, move too fast or make extra stupid faces. I can imagine.“

„Speaking of which, here are the photographs from your set,“ Mark says from his table and hints at the screen.

Matt comes to stand next to Mark’s chair and they browse the set, talking about almost each shot. Mark clicks and talks about the different things in each shot, then he corrects a couple of parameters in Lightroom and tries not to be intimidated by Matt’s presence. Which is hard, because Matt is standing right behind the chair, bowing over Mark’s shoulder, pointing out things on the screen.

The press kit selection is almost finished when the last shots of Matt singing come up.

„I do look good when I sing,“ Matt laughs.

„True,“ Mark agrees instantly. The silence after that is deafening.

„Yeah, about that…,“ Matt says right next to Mark ear.

Mark audibly swallows turning his head to Matt, just an inch from his face. Matt licks his lips, watching Mark trail the movement hungrily with his eyes.

„What gave me off?“ Mark can’t help to ask.

Matt smiles and wraps his hand around the back of Mark’s neck, stroking his cheek in answer. Their mouths gently brush. It’s simple until Matt presses lightly at the lower lip and parts Mark‘s lips with a groan. Mark arches to give Matt a better access and drags his fingers along his forearm. Matt’s tongue doing dirty little sweeps in his mouth before letting him reciprocate. Matt hums in satisfaction and moves further. Something ignites deep down in Mark‘s belly.

„Oh god,“ Mark gasps as Matt’s tongue is distressingly soft over his ear with just a hint of teeth when he get’s down his neck. He shivers. Now Matt’s teeth are scraping the spot where the neck meets the shoulder, eagerly sucking at the hot skin and shifting the gear.

 „Seeing someone?“ Matt asks between breath?

„No,“ Mark confesses and moves his hands to get a grab of Matt’s arms.

„Me neither,“ Matt says enjoying the way Mark mouths long his jaw.

 _What about the guy in the parking lot_ , Mark wants to ask and moves his fingers to Matt’s hair.

„Shirt off,“ Matt orders and Mark does not hesitate a second. The garmet drops to the floor, promptly followed by Matt’s own.

Mark was right, the tattoos continue to entwine the ribs and sides of Matt’s torso.  _Maybe even lower_.

„You have  _Hello Cleveland_  tattooed on your ribs? Are you shitting me?“ is Mark’s immediate reaction as he watches Matt kneel between his legs.

Matt grins and grips at Mark’s hips pulling him to the edge of the seat in one long movement.

„Better say hello to someone else,“ as he fumbles with the front of Marks pants, yanking them down together with the boxers.

„That’s such a cheesy move,“ Mark chuckles but the smile dies on his lips very fast when Matt reaches for his cock and strokes it, hungrily watching the foreskin roll off the head. He leans up and nuzzles his way down Mark’s stomach, licking at the belly button and not giving him a change to breath. Mark’s hips buck upward, the friction is too good. Matt takes the hint and swallows him down.

Mark can‘t help the whimper that slips out when Matt tongues the slit and continues to jack off and lap at Mark’s cock. He feels like dissolving. Matt pulls off, moving hands to push his tights back and mouth at Mark’s balls, licking from the very bottom to the tip of Mark’s cock. Then he swallows him again.

„Shit, you’re trying to kill me,“ Mark can’t get enough of it, pleasure flowing through him like a live wire. He barely notes his fingers are sunken deep into the handles of his chair.

“Yeah,” says Matt pulling off again, moving his hand faster, adding tongue and pressure to the head. He sounds wrecked and turned on, his voice is rasp.

„Fuck, come on, Mark.“

And that’s it for him, Mark’s coming into Matt’s hand, making it wet and sticky.

Matt makes a hard choking sound. „Fuck yeah, so hot,“ his eyes glint while he licks the stripes off, his other desperately dragging the zipper on his pants down.

 _No time to recover,_  Mark thinks and bows forward, adding his hand on top of Matt’s already moving one. He presses his forehead to Matt’s, feeling the hot humidity of his short breath.

„Fucking Christ,“ Matt sobs and desperately crushes their lips together. Mark hooks his other hand behind Matt’s head and licks messily into his mouth, tasting himself on Matt’s tongue.

Matt comes shuddering breath out and tipping his face into the crook of Mark’s neck. „Holy shit.“  He laughs at the white stripes of his own come decorating Mark’s tights and halfway pulled pants.

Mark notices too and makes a face.

„You do have a awesome expression when you’re flustrated,“ Matt tells him laughing while zipping himself up.

„Huh?“

„Yeah, like the same one you had in the pit when I refused to make contact with the camera. I could not resist to do it again and again, you were so frustrated,“ Matt is now trying to stand up but his legs are wonky.

„What? You did that on purpose?“ Usually musicians take not much notice of what’s going on below the high floor of the stage.

„Yep, it was fun,“ Matt replies and offers Mark a hand to stand up.

Mark furrows a brow. „I need a good shot. You know, some people are really difficult to work with,“ he needs something to clean up the mess on his leg.

„And did you get a good shot?“ Matt asks, passing him the box of tissues from the table.

„I did,“ Mark grins.


End file.
